


The Struggles of Love

by Adoxographish



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alby is a psycho, Alternate Universe - High School, Aris has a crush on Minho, Bisexual Minho, Coming Out, Gally with a gun, Love Triangles, M/M, Minho can't choose who to date, Newt is rich, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Teresa has a crush on Minho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2018-11-07 03:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11050629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adoxographish/pseuds/Adoxographish
Summary: Set in a High School AU, the Gladers are divided into their own niche; but an unspoken attraction between Newt and Thomas may drive the once suicidal blonde into the world of love. Friends fight over friends, and love causes a few to go insane all for the love of the blonde and brunette boys. Who will stay together at the end of this?





	1. The Painting

**\--- Thomas ---**

 

A pinging sound echoed through the empty hallways, entirely deserted aside from the cheerleaders in the gymnasium. The auxiliary gym was quieter, deserted as well if it weren't for the lonely senior on the bleachers; dark brown hair, wearing a light blue shirt with short sleeves underneath a darker blue jacket. His name was Thomas.  
  
Despite the cheers and shouts from the teenage girls in the other room, the place was the ideal area to study- or be alone in general. A stack of two textbooks lay by his right side, a smaller one in his lap. A notebook and pencil rested in his hands; peering up and down to gather notes.  
  
His tongue stuck out in concentration, wrist turning red from lack of circulation, and a consistent foot tap bouncing his textbook too. A few minutes passed, three and a half pages worth of notes; neat with a slight hint of messiness. The cheerleaders calmed for a bit, and only a sigh escaped from his mouth; shattering the limited silence, later resuming the muffled shouts and praises.  
  
Both clocks on the walls stated the time as being a little after 4:00. Thomas wasn't hesitant to leave the school as fast as he could. Packing up his supplies, strapping his backpack on his back, and heading out the door. A bold expression never left his face walking down the hallways.  _Halfway through the year._

 

* * *

**  
\--- Newt ---**

 

A mysterious boy sat in the art room, alone. Sitting on a wooden stool facing a canvas mounted in an easel; not painted, but etched in multiple sketches of graphite. Each line was carefully drawn, mimicking the still life of the lone rose resting upon the wooden table behind the wooden contraption.  
  
The boy was also a senior; blonde hair, a white shirt underneath a brown jacket, tied in place by a red scarf around his neck. His name was Newt.  
  
A wooden paintbrush was held in his right hand, a paint pallet with mixes of red, white, green, blue, and black. The image itself lay lifeless without color, but once applied it took shape. Inspiration suddenly struck the blonde, adding gentle strokes of red to give the image of falling petals. New colors now appeared on the pallet; used for the glass table the rose lay upon- rather than a natural wooden desk- platinum hues for the smashed shards of a mirror on the tiled floor.  
  
He took two or more steps back, not admiring his work, actually sighing. A look of depression engulfed his face, covering the painting. Time appeared on the enemy side for him that day, glancing towards the clock to view a few minutes after 4:00. The door to the storage room lay open, not realizing why it was open to begin with- to house his most recent creation, and all the ones before it.   
  
In a rush of adrenaline, Newt bounced out the room; backpack and utensils in toe. A few tears almost flowed down his cheeks, but the wind he ran against brushed them off. __Another painting no one will ever see. They're not worthy enough anyway.__

 

* * *

 

 

Newt had been in such a rush earlier that his painting lay out in the open. Another minute passed, and out the door he went. Thomas was also on his way out the door, but to the side of his view, a peculiar sight caught his eye. There, a sheet draped over a canvas; no doubt it was Newt's. No one else is there after hours, but Thomas didn't know that- or who he was.  
  
A slight wave of confusion drowned his mind, curiosity later taking over. Thomas stepped a few feet past the doorway, glancing back and forth at the canvas and storage room. Maybe someone forgot to put it up. It couldn't hurt to do it for them in case they did.   
  
Grasping the sides of the canvas, he elevated it to place it on any empty shelf inside the room. The largest window allowed the sight of a lone tree; a blue jay nest remained in between the intertwining branches. The owner of the constructed structure flew by the windowsill, pecking at a leaf to further contribute to the development of its shelter. Missing once, a loud bang echoed to disturb Thomas' focus; dropping the painting.  
  
Shit. He looked over to the side, as the bird who caused it flew away at the same moment. The sheet maneuvered off the canvas, exposing whatever hues stained the white rectangle. Oblivious to the small corner revealed, Thomas resumed taking it to the storage room; however, he made sure nothing was damaged.  
  
The sheet cloaking the creation draped downwards, and a small gasp escaped his mouth. This is beautiful! Thomas searched the painting for a signature, but nothing was there.  _Did they not finish it? Maybe they just didn't want anyone to know who did it. Can't imagine why, though._  
  
Covering the painting again in the white sheet, he gently placed it on a shelf with more cloaked canvases. Closing the door behind him, he was out the door again; the image still burnt into his mind. Once outside, he shivered slightly; the autumn wind- close to winter-like a whispering ghost, his cheeks blending into a light shade of pink. The bottom of his jacket flowed in the air, gathering small particles of what appeared to be the start of snow.  
  
Placing his hands in his pockets to warm himself, he set off into the neighborhood close by. Each tree slowly lost its leaves, gliding in the wind, bunched in conga lines across the strips of grass separated by the concrete sidewalks. Children gathered outside with rakes in toe, cannon-balling into leaf piles; exploding into a burst of orange, yellow, and brown.  
  
A small smile grew on his face, connecting cheek to cheek. His hair became ruffled the closer he ventured to his house, eventually noticing his mother standing in the doorway. She smiled towards him, heading inside as Thomas followed close. _ _  
__

* * *

  
  
Faint dots of snow piled on the bushes outside, outlining the shape of the tulips; as well as the roof of his house. As he pried the door open, no one was in sight; must've left for the business trip today. The house itself was empty aside from himself. Taking off his jacket for the coat hanger, his scarf on the same stake, heading to his room; taking off his shoes in the process.  
  
The interior was tidy, cups of paint brushes, stacks of paper, piles of canvases. A bookshelf remained sturdy; To Kill a Mockingbird, The Maze Runner, The Eye of Minds, Trumpet of the Swan, etc. His bed rest across from the bookshelf, a teal comforter alongside a white bedside cabinet. The window by his bed emitted white light, slightly darker due to the blinds and curtains draped overhead.  
  
Newt slumped down onto his bed, sinking deeper into the mattress. Setting his phone down, the blue light flashed in a consistent rhythm. A groan muffled by the soft sheets broke whatever silence remained dormant. A text, from Alby. _ ___  
  
\- Can you talk, or do you wanna be alone? -  
  
  - I can take some time off. You texted because... -  
  
  - Just wanted to check up on you. How are you coping after suicide watch? -  
  
  - Good. Same as before it happened. -  
  
  - Good that. Stay safe okay? -  
  
  - Will do. -  
  
Alby stopped texting afterward, setting his phone down on the cabinet again. Flipping over on his back, a sigh of exhaustion expelled from his lips; catching drowsiness.  
  
However, he couldn't sleep just then. Dinner first, then sleep. Getting up, he began the rest of his daily routine continuing what was left of the day.


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two finally meet.

**\--- Thomas ---**

 

A beep, consistently repeated one after another. Thomas jerked up, sprinting off his bed to prepare for school. A white T-shirt underneath the same dark blue jacket, hiking shoes as well as his school necessities. Textbooks, notebooks, and a few pencils to accompany the folders holding notes and homework.  
  
His mother handed him his lunch, as well as his breakfast. Devouring it in an instant, packing up his school stuff, and heading out the door. Leftover snow still piled on the grass and foliage, carried as well in the drifting wind. Cheeks turning red, sniffles, and waving hair.   
  
Thomas resumed thoughts on the mysterious artist, about what he would do if he found out. He'd never had a desire to find someone before, nor did he plan out what he'd do if he succeeded. Would he be friends, best friends, or...love-no. No no no Thomas. Don't finish that thought.  
  
Thomas had never felt love for anyone besides his family. He certainly wasn't going to daydream about finding someone to love- especially if they met by Thomas' desire to find the artist of a painting. If anything, he'd merely wanted to congratulate them, commemorate them. _Not_  be distracted by lust.  
  
Setting those thoughts behind him, he faced the weather to greet his friends at school.

 

* * *

 

**  
\--- Newt ---**

 

Newt was up and at it before Thomas-who he hadn't met yet- packing up his school supplies, eating breakfast, and eventually heading out the door as well. The weather didn't bother him much, it wasn't too warm or too cold, too windy or too dormant, not even too snowy or rainy. Newt was only focused on school.  
  
A sudden memory crashed into Newt's mind bank; about his hurry to leave school, forgetting to put his painting away into the storage room. _What if someone saw it?_ Newt kept pondering about that, stopping for a few seconds before adrenaline had him dash for school.  
  
The wind seemed to increase in velocity, the snow amount piled around the environment, his cheeks becoming a redder hue. His heart rate increased, sweating under the clothing, but later drying from the cold air. Finally, the front of the school was visible, yet no one lay inside. _Am I too early?_  Apparently, Newt wasn't alone. On his left side, Thomas was there; reaching in the same spot as Newt's hand.  
  
Neither of them realized the other was there, not until their hands made contact. Newt was the first to pull back, repelling Thomas' in the process. Newt's face became redder from embarrassment, conveniently timed with the cold weather. He glanced upwards, looking eye to eye at the mysterious brunette. Suddenly, his heart rate increased even more, not just from running, but due to his new found emotion.

 

* * *

 

 

**\--- Thomas ---**

 

Thomas stood still, just staring at the blonde. His heart rate increased much like Newt's, but not from embarrassment. Could this be...lust? Thomas tried to shake the thought away, but the innocent gleam in the other boy's eyes only drowned his fighting thoughts.   
  
The cold weather covered the blush Thomas felt creeping up his neck, feeling the autumn chill of the wind on the hairs on his neck. They stood in place, staring into each other's eyes, remaining in utter silence. The mysterious blonde decided to break the silence.  
  
\- "I am, so sorry. I-I didn't see you there."  
  
Thomas hesitated for a moment, but to keep calm he responded as if it was practiced 100 times. "Why are you sorry, I should've been watching where I was going."   
  
Newt had almost chuckled at the brunette's cute-no, no Newton. Don't think of such things, you don't fall in love.  
  
After recollecting himself, Newt responded to the mysterious teenager. "I guess I thought it bothered you."  
  
\- "You mean after we practically held hands." Thomas remarked.  
  
\- "Sure, let's go with that."  
  
Both broke into laughter, eventually having Thomas reach out to shake the other's hand. After Newt took it, Thomas replied. "I'm Thomas."  
  
\- "Call me, Newt."  
  
Thomas smiled, as did Newt, but Newt soon remembered the reason he hurried to school in the first place. In a panicked sorry aimed towards his new acquaintance, he tried to pry open the doors; also attempting to barge into the building.  
  
A slight chuckle escaped Thomas' mouth, causing Newt to stop his frenzy. "What's so bloody funny?"  
  
\- "The fact that you're determined to get into a locked building just cracks me up."  
  
\- "Like you have a better plan." Newt smirked.  
  
\- "We could always wait in the cold, but if you want, follow me." Thomas said as he started walking away.  
  
Newt eyed him closely, making sure he wasn't secretly going to mug him. However, he felt a sense of trust with the boy-actually Thomas- so he followed. Thomas led him behind the school to a pair of glass doors, Newt peered inside to see the empty cafeteria. Lone chairs, elongated tables, a gloomy shadow looming over.  
  
Scratching his head Newt was about to answer, but Thomas cut him off. "One custodian always forgets to lock the door every morning. Easy access to the school if you ask me."  
  
Relief struck the blonde, gleaming with delight, but regaining control. "Thank you. I'll see you around, Tommy." Newt said as he opened the unlocked door.  
  
\- "Don't mention it. Oh, why are you in such a hurry to get to school? I've never seen you around before."  
  
Newt was hesitant to respond, but much like he trusted Thomas earlier, he told him why. "I have something to put up in the art room. I need to make sure no one sees it."  
  
Thomas stood wide-eyed, confused but realizing quickly. Right as he was about to clarify about the object he needed to stow away, he recalled that Newt didn't want anyone to see the rose painting. "Gotcha."  
  
\- "We'll see each other soon, Tommy."  
  
\- "I plan on it, Newt."  
  
Just like that, the blonde was gone;disappearing into the darkness of the spacious room. Thomas' heart fluttered faster, but calmed realizing that he was surrounded by cold weather. His lips began to turn a light shade of blue, but still pink with normality. Stepping inside, footsteps were still audible; fading with every continued pat.  
  
 _This is crazy Thomas. You just met him, you can't fall in love based on looks._ Thomas battled in his head, eventually coming to the conclusion to get to know the British boy better. Maybe _then_ he could either fall in love or become friends or the possibility of enemies. Although, he doubted that it would ever come to that.


	3. The Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unspoken attraction between Newt and Thomas begins to brew...

**\--- Thomas ---**

 

After what seemed like eons, the lunch bell rang. Making his way out of his previous class, the cafeteria became crowded with other high school students. The tables seen in the morning were spread out along the floor, each seat taken by a student. Almost everyone, except one seat by a girl. Dark hair, blue eyes, seeming to be waiting for someone; yet eating her lunch as well.  
  
Thomas' friend, Teresa.  
  
Realizing where he was, Teresa motioned him over to the empty seat in front of her. Thomas noticed, and sat in the lone chair. The seat was in between two of his other friends, Minho and Frypan. Teresa sat in between a boy named Aris, and a girl named Brenda. Next to Aris were a group of girls, only two recognizable. A dark skinned girl named Harriet, and a blonde haired girl named Sonya.  
  
Minho and Thomas became friends since the start of Middle School, greeting each other after a short-lived race. Short-lived because the track was limited to the space of a classroom. Now in high school, Minho became the Captain of the Track Team; Thomas being a close second since he was the second to join.   
  
Frypan was an old friend since Freshman year, meeting behind the counters when Frypan was temporarily assisting the lunch ladies. Quite an excellent cook, as Thomas notes.  
  
Aris, Sonya, and Harriet met Thomas all the same way. A simple hello, few hangouts later, eventually becoming good friends. Pretty much the average way to meet friends in James Dashner High School.  
  
Brenda first met Thomas when they were assigned their first project together for High School. Obviously their friendship was a success.  
  
Teresa was a different story. Having known each other since Elementary, she was Thomas' closest, and oldest friend. She understood his body language, tone of every emotion he had, she almost knew everything about him. The same went with Thomas' understanding of Teresa.  
  
However, now there was someone else. Newt. Calm, cool, welcoming, kind. There was something Thomas felt that separated Newt from the rest of his friends. In a good way though. Eventually he'd hang out with him, find out what he likes, dislikes, etc. Merely the barrier of friendship, and other relations.  
  
Aside from his friends, his day wasn't so pleasant; not including track practice-which he loved. First, History with Mr. Janson. Sure Thomas excelled in that class along with most of them, but it was as if Mr. Janson sought out to make everyone's life miserable. With homework and overwhelming lectures.  
  
Second, English with Mr. Wright. More tolerable, but still a teacher. Homework, lectures, and more homework. Third, Science with Ms. Paige. The worst of the worst. Despite her doctor-like attitude, and knowledge of all things science related, she favors Thomas over everyone else. And he _hates_ that.  
  
After Art and Math came lunch, the only period he can only relax. No work, just relaxation. However, his work is usually done either before or during lunch. Once he was settled, he finally engaged in whatever he and his friends did everyday.  
  
  


* * *

 

 

**\--- Newt ---**

  
  
Things went at a normal pace for Newt; same content amount as yesterday, less homework, yet something affected his attitude. Despite all efforts, he couldn't place his finger on it until passing period. _Was it waking up early? Lack of homework? Or was it about the brunette I met earlier?_  
  
Just then, he stopped in his tracks. Was it really that? He attempted to shake the thought out of his head, but resistance was futile as it seemed. After navigating the hallways, the cafeteria was in view; loud, crowded, familiar. Maneuvering around tables and chattering students, he reached his destined table. Alby, his closest friend, sat in the opposite chair across from him; waiting patiently by tapping his toes.  
  
\- "You sure took your sweet time getting here." Alby said with a smirk forming on his face.  
  
\- "You know the hallways at this blubbin' hour. Although, it seems to get easier to get through."  
  
Alby chucked at his friends remark, but stopped suddenly. Something was up with Newt, and whatever it was, he wasn't hiding it well.  
  
\- "What are you buggin' starin' at?"  
  
\- "I have a gut feeling that something's up. And you're going to tell me what."  
  
\- "What gave you that conclusion? Did I insinuate that somethin' was up?"  
  
\- "Just the witty remark, slow attendance-"  
  
\- "There's nothing going on. Whatever you're getting at, it probably doesn't exist."  
  
Alby hesitated for a moment, snickering at his claim. "Something is up all right, and I'm determined to find out what."  
  
\- "Ooh, you're _so scary._ " Newt replied, emphasizing the S sounds.  
  
Ignoring the bold assumption Alby had come up with, Newt sat down toying with his lunch. One sharp movement to his left caught his attention. Thomas was seen laughing along with his friends. Newt couldn't help but stare, forming a smile as well. Alby however, also couldn't help but watch.  
  
The brunette had caught the eye of his best friend, and something about him made him boil with rage. Either it was what occurred moments ago, or something deeper.  
  
After a few more minutes, the 6th period bell rang. A few sighs could be made out from the crowd, but the majority of the teenagers set off to get through the day. Both Thomas and Newt had gone in separate ways, and before Thomas had disappeared talking to Teresa, Newt glanced back.  
  
 _Quit it Newt, people will just think you're a bloody weirdo._ Just like that, Newt vanished into the crowd of unrecognizable faces. A shame that Newt didn't notice that Thomas had looked back shortly afterwards.

 

* * *

 

 

**\--- Newt ---**

  
  
The outside rang cold, lingering ice and snow, floating leaves of brown, dry hues. A lone bench outside in the front of the school lay accompanied by a brunette with a book or two. Thomas.  
  
So engrossed in the words printed upon many pages of parchment, he didn't notice the blonde approaching him.  
  
\- "Tommy?"  
  
The sudden burst of speech made him jump, but regained control of his limbs. "That's a nickname, only one of the few I have."  
  
\- "I didn't expect you here."  
  
\- "I go to school here, I assume you do too."  
  
\- "True, I 'spect."  
  
Newt joined Thomas on the bench, engaging in what Thomas had planned for eventually. Riveting conversations, a few laughs here and there, distribution of likes/dislikes, etc. Almost and hour had passed before they realized the environment had shed small flakes of snow.  
  
Each particle of snow glistened in the slow, faltering light; liked dew among a fine morning mist. The school appeared deserted apart from a few cars in the open parking lot, and the only teenagers that remained; on their way to leave. Snow, ice, wind; increasing sluggishly, yet beautiful still.  
  
\- "Hey, Tommy."  
  
\- "Yeah?"  
  
\- "Would you mind coming with me to the NAHS meeting after school tomorrow."  
  
\- "I don't mind, but why me?"  
  
\- "My slinthead friend Alby forced me to join, and I _don't_ want to be alone on my first meeting for two hours."  
  
\- "Yeah, sure. What time is it?"  
  
\- "Right after 4:00."  
  
\- "Okay, I'll see you then."  
  
\- "Thanks a million Tommy, see ya!" Newt said as he headed off.  
  
- "...bye..." Thomas said quietly. A small grin formed on his face, his eyes softened. He'd accomplished yet another one of his goals. Getting to know Newt better. However, his emotions of delight and excitement were soon met with melancholy despair.  
  
Newt was perfect. That was the problem.   
  
He liked everything Thomas liked. The same games, movies, books, even shared a common hobby. Thomas knew how he felt, he was in love. But Newt probably didn't feel the same. _He's probably as straight as anyone. Stupid Thomas._  
  
Forever, his feelings of love and lust were to haunt him. A curse, a burden of how foolish he was to think of things such as that. Thomas decided to let go of his feelings that day, yet he still held them deep inside.  
  
His pillows muffled sobs, stained by tears, pounded by fists with seething anger; later softened with wet tears again. _I'm stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid._ Afterwards, their friendship was his priority; despite the sadness and rage he felt because of Newt. Thomas wasn't going to ruin it by a confession of love, but if it ever happened, he'd have nothing to cry about.  
  
Thomas was prepared for the worst, an emotionless face on the Earth. _Just put on a smile, it'll be over before you know it._ It seemed impossible for him to calm, but he did; much like sleep, but it came. His eyes closed, vision fogging into a white abyss. _Day by day, you'll make it. Do it for your friends. Your family. For...him..._


	4. The Gunshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gunshot is heard throughout the school, and only one will be the victim. Who will it be?

The final bell of the day rang, 45 minutes from the deadline. The NAHS deadline. Thankfully all of his subjects either assigned a group project, or just didn't hand out homework. Although he basically had a free day, he had more than half an hour til' he needed to be in school again.  
  
Resting on the familiar bench outside the school, he lay with his hand held out; grasping snowflakes in the slow falling weather, vanishing in his palm. A few sighs expelled, catching the winter frost. His phone rest dormant by his side, reaching out every few minutes to check the time; make sure he isn't late.   
  
Aside from Thomas' distaste in after school meetings, he wanted to be there for his friend. Flashbacks of last night's struggle appeared in his vision; **_pain, tears, anger._** However, it had no effect. Nothing resonated within, but his smile remained. His eyes fogged, cleared, then appeared rippled with tears; until the last few minutes of 3:00 flashed on a white screen. **_  
  
_**_It's time._ An imprint of untouched wood left behind by Thomas' delayed reaction, yet became sprinkled in specs of frost as he trekked back through closed doors.   
  
Everything appeared deserted, untouched even by the wind that brushed against his body. Every inch of the school seemed dormant. A few classrooms held visible light, but not classrooms of any importance. A few signs rest out in the open, one had to be bound to their meeting session; despite his chance of luck. Yet, something still led him in the right direction.  
  
Maybe it was an extra sign, behind a door slightly ajar. A muffled chatter of students, or the blonde teenager standing by a certain room; arms crossed, foot tapping, and worried eye twitching. As Thomas noticed, and his footsteps became audible, the blonde snapped back to reality, walking to meet Thomas halfway.  
  
  
\- "I was worried you weren't going to show up, Tommy."  
  
\- "I was only a few minutes late. Call it, being 'fashionably late'. Is that the end of the world?"  
  
\- "I suppose not, but I'm glad you came."  
  
\- "Well someone _needed_ to be comforted since they _need_ attention." Thomas joked.  
  
Newt began to laugh quietly, bringing his hands to cover his mouth. Normally, Thomas would've blushed, but his emotions were left in despair. His heart still fluttered a bit after the blonde's cute reaction, and his smile retained it's form; increasing slightly, but not noticeable.   
  
Once Newt had calmed, he led Thomas into a spacious room; no desks, but chairs in an arranged form. Every face in the room was unrecognizable, staring blankly at sheets of paper. Thomas' eyebrows raised a bit, signifying confusion; later met with understanding.  
  
\- "Right now they're reviewing some sort of requirements paper, but it'll become more boring once they discuss those requirements." Newt said in a whisper only Thomas could hear.  
  
Thomas replied with a simple nod, leaning back into a nearby chair; where Newt sat beside him, brushing his knee against Thomas'.

  
  
**\--- An Hour Later ---**

**  
**  
Each individual was now gathered in a circle of chairs, hands clasped or around their necks. Many conversations were held between the group, but none were aimed at Newt or Thomas; who had been forced by Alby to join them. Thomas almost fell asleep during one elongated chat, leaving Newt to giggle quietly at the boredom they faced.  
  
Once the meeting was called to an end, the people who attended grouped together as they prepared to leave the school to the now dark outside. The school's cheerleading squad also met up with the group, as well as a few track team kids; one including Minho. A cluster of about thirty freshmen ranging through seniors total.  
  
The desolate hallways became populated by footsteps and the distant speech of many students; none of which could be made out. Thomas and Newt were at the front of the group, the rest trailing behind.  
  
\- "I cant wait to get home." Thomas yawned.  
  
\- "Me too, I need to tell Alby no next time." Newt replied in a whisper.  
  
\- "Good that."  
  
Thomas and Newt began to partake in conversations, about how desperate they were to leave and how they'd both agree to never join something such as that. However, nearing the front doors, a silhouetted figure was seen; standing still in the middle of the hallway, clenching something in it's right hand. Newt stopped in his tracks, as did Thomas, followed by the rest as they now realized.  
  
Some people stood wide-eyed, others remained calm; yet still burdened by fear's grip. A few whimpers along with some relieved sighs became audible, spawning curiosity in a few hearts. Thomas was one of the few.  
  
Speech broke out again, but in a quiet whisper; however, nothing was louder than the silence they shattered. No doubt the figure heard them. Despite all turmoil and fear, one by one the group cautiously walked closer. Suddenly, the figure became recognizable as light broke into the darkness. It was Gally.  
  
Only a few feet away from the school bully, the remaining people who hadn't been afraid comprehended why the rest were. A weapon, a gun was grasped in his hand; trembling and twitching. As sounds were about to be spoken, Gally raised his gun; pointed straight at the closest person. Newt. Sheer terror griped his emotion, yet calmness remained buried.  
  
Everyone grew wide-eyed, hearts pounding, muffled by more whimpers. Only a few attempted to step in, but were stopped, afraid that they'd mess something up. A few tears collected in their eyes, some falling from Thomas', Minho's, and Alby's. Thankfully, Thomas was right at Newt's side. Before anyone could speak, Gally beat them to the punch.  
  
\- "You're all doing the right thing, I'll have you know. Any signs of trouble _will_ be met with retribution!"  
  
- "Gally, what are you doing?!" Thomas shouted.  
  
\- "I don't expect you know, Thomas."  
  
\- "Then tell us why you're doing this!" Minho yelled from the back.  
  
\- "Oh, you want to know so badly? Okay then." Gally began to cough up.  
  
The hallways grew silent, prepared for any speech Gally had. However, it was met with unexpected results.  
  
- "I'm doing this because I can't stand Newt being in the way of my relationship with Thomas."  
  
\- "What?" Thomas questioned. "That's absurd, we're not friends, or acquaintances for that matter."  
  
\- "Maybe not, but I feel the same way you feel about _him."_  
  
Thomas still bore an angry look, not showing any signs of confusion; yet it existed.  _What does that mean? Does Gally, like me?_ The entire concept sounded like he said earlier, absurd. However, he doesn't like Gally that way, or anyway. He loved Newt, but it wouldn't be. It's merely a fabrication. Putting his feelings aside, he had to find a way to get everyone out of this situation; especially the one facing the problem.  
  
\- "What are you talking about?" Newt fearfully said.  
  
Laughter struck at the teenager behind the trigger, producing worried faces amongst the group. Thomas turned back, embarrassed, but noticed Minho clenching his fists in the back. Minho noticed, an anxious expression filled with rage at the same time. Suddenly, Minho tiptoed over behind the closest wall; and Thomas realized why.  
  
A faint light resonated in the spot Minho disappeared to, he had his phone. Thomas urgently hoped it was for the police. And it was.  
  
After the woman on the other line finished, he spoke in a quiet voice. "I'm at James Dashner High School, someone brought a gun and is threatening to shoot a student. If not, more than one."  
  
The woman's voice spoke again. "Okay, we'll send police cars and an ambulance if anything occurs. Thank you for alerting us."  
  
Hanging up his phone, he hoped they would be there soon. _Please hurry._ As if Minho was frozen in time, he hardly missed a thing.  
  
\- "How _does_ Tommy feel about me?"  
  
\- "Are you serious? After all this, you still don't get it. I'll say it slowly. He _LOVES_ you."  
  
Newt stilled, shocked, then looked at Thomas, who turned his head in shame while blushing a deep red. He faced Gally again, who still held the gun in his face.  
  
\- "Now do you understand? I love Thomas, and I can't have him be mine if you're in the way! It'll be so much easier once you're gone."  
  
Suddenly, a loud boom echoes through the hallway. Gally pulled the trigger. Newt stood paralyzed by terror, but Thomas didn't hesitate to react; no matter who knew the truth now. By leaping at Newt, he managed to push him out of the way; but Thomas didn't make it out without a scratch. The bullet fired grazed his right side, blood spreading on his shirt.  
  
Another sound was heard, a pang, followed by the clattering of metal. Minho pushed his way to the front, noticing Thomas was shot, and that the very gun used to do so was dropped on the floor. Gally trembled teary-eyed, and burst to exit through the doors; only to be stopped by two police men, tackling him to the ground.  
  
A few more police men and women made it into the school, finding Thomas writhing in pain on the floor; Newt and Minho watching him overhead. By assisting the police, they managed to get Thomas up onto a gurney wheeled in; strolling him outside with his friends at his side.  
  
Red, blue, and even purple lights disturbed the darkness looming over the world, flashing in a consistent spiral. In front a certain police car was the ambulance, doors wide open and prepared for any injures persons. On the same certain police car, Gally was pressed against a back door; the reflection of Thomas being wheeled in the ambulance as his only view.  
  
The moment itself was a blur to Thomas at certain points however, he could recall the sounds of sirens through the streets, as well as reassurances from Minho and Newt.   
  
\- "You'll be okay Tommy, you'll be okay."  
  
His last sight was Newt's face, darkening as he blacked out; Newt and Minho's voice drowning in somber sleep. _You're alright Tommy, we're here for you."_


	5. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a talk under the moonlight, but that isn't the only thing shared.

The bumpy trek to the hospital proved somewhat beneficial to his current state; hopping into the air, strangely striking drowsiness to his eyes. Afterwards, every image was black, dark and empty. Near the point of his return to reality, voices felt distant-faint but audible. His vision cleared, taking in the bright flash of white light hanging overhead; the white walls of the room not helping much either. Minho seemed to be the first to notice, but it appeared that everyone noticed at the same time.  
  
\- "He's awake!" Minho shouted, filled with anger and relief.  
  
A woman in black hair, followed by a younger teenager with long, dark hair entered the room; his mother and Teresa. Distress filled both their eyes, tears collected in their eyelids. A blonde boy was already in the room, sitting in a chair next to the head of the bed. Newt. The bottom of his eyes appeared red, probably from crying- even though Thomas couldn't clarify by assumption. Apart from the millions of questions spouting from his mother's mouth, his heartbeat became clear-pounding hard; sheer terror was afflicted upon him. A great way to spend a Wednesday.  
  
Escaping his thoughts, back to the present he went.  
  
\- "What happened? Are you okay! I was so worried! You terrified us all!"  
  
Thomas could only focus on Newt.  
  
Thomas' mother glanced over to the blonde sitting quietly, hunched over and clasping his hands; turning his knuckles white. Although he wasn't as close with the blonde as he was with Teresa, he could still tell Newt was hiding something. It seemed as if he blames himself for Thomas' current state; injured, crippled, but healing and alive.  
  
Newt looked destroyed. Minho shared a similar look of grief, but the depression that engulfed the blonde drowned him immensely. "What happened?"  
  
\- "You were shot in the side. Luckily the doctor said that it didn't damage any arteries. He also said that you should be able to leave tonight" Teresa responded.  
  
\- "What about Gally? What's gonna happen to him?"  
  
\- "The officer said the shank was going to face sometime in prison, be in a psyche ward, and he's gonna have a personal therapist. Serves him right the slinthead!" Minho said.  
  
\- "Tell me about it" Teresa replied. "From what you guys said, he _really needs_ some help."  
  
Thomas glanced over to Newt, who just sat silently; running his hands through his hair. Turning his attention back to the only people talking, he was engulfed in a massive hug by his mother- sending a wave of pain through his body. "Ouch!"  
  
\- "Sorry, I just relieved you're okay."  
  
Teresa acknowledged the worry in her eyes, quickly gesturing her over to the doctor asking for her. Thomas' mother was hesitant before she walked into the other room, Minho following as his girlfriend also gestured him into the other room.  
  
Although he couldn't see much, he could make out a few more people in the other room: Brenda, Jorge, Chuck-his adopted brother- and Newt's friend- _Alby was his name?_  
  
\- "You alright, Tommy?"  
  
The sudden outbreak of words startled him into the air but calmed his senses. "Yeah. You okay?"   
  
\- "Just tired, and worried for your sake is all."  
  
\- "I can tell you're beating yourself up over this. Why?"  
  
\- "If it weren't for me, you'd be at home. Not hurt at all."  
  
\- "But if it happened. you wouldn't have been here to say that."  
  
Newt stopped talking for a moment, but Thomas continued. "Why are you just now talking?"  
  
\- "It's because you and I have some things to discuss. But not here."  
  
\- "Oh. So, you didn't forget."  
  
\- "Been in my bloody head since the drive here. Can't."  
  
Thomas jerked his head in the opposite direction; he couldn't bring himself to look at Newt anymore, not after tonight. Figures in the corner of his eye nearly caused him whiplash, still avoiding the sight of the blonde next to him.  
  
\- "We're keeping your mom company at your house while you and Newt talk about...things. Come by when you're done" Teresa said walking in.  
  
His fidgeting mother was clearly scared for her life, bringing Brenda to reassure her. "Newt and Thomas will be fine."  
  
\- "Yeah. I'll be waiting in my car in the parking lot. Once you've settled everything, I'll give you guys a ride home." Minho responded.  
  
Everyone afterwards walked out the white room, leaving silence in their place. A mop of sandy blonde hair stood up, bringing out a helping hand. Taking it, Thomas slowly rose up from the hospital bed. His hospital gown would seem awkward outside, so he found his close neatly piled on the edge or the bed; grabbing them and changing in the nearby bathroom. Once he finished, Newt was already in the doorway to the parking lot.  
  


**\--- Outside ---**  


  
No one talked during the stroll. Crickets chirped, leaves piled in the dead grass. The nearby park was close, away from everyone; perfect for the discussion. The final trek upwards a smooth hill led them to a lone bench, overlooking the vast lot beneath. Thomas was the first to sit down, followed by Newt; tapping his toes and twiddling his fingers. The trees bared most of their leaves, the grass still appeared vividly green, flowers stained the landscape; but not for long, with snow draping over.

For a good minute or two longer, no one said a thing. The crickets hushed, the wind stilled. Nothing shattered the silence.

\- "Is it true?" Newt asked.

\- "Huh?"

\- "What Gally said back there...is it true?"

\- "......yeah. It is." Thomas said, filled with shame.

Newt noticed but showed no signs of confusion. "So how long?"

\- "Since we first met."

Before Newt could continue, Thomas continued.

\- "However, I didn't judge it on looks. I needed to know you better, only then would it determine my feelings. I realized that I...love you. We like all the same things, we share the same interests, and you're just one of the greatest guys I've known. But I soon came up to the realization that it was just imaginary. Things don't work like they do in the movies. Love is something both people have to share, and you can't always get the person you love. After all, I'm Thomas: a regular senior, and you're Newt: the richest kid in JDHS. Probably the straightest guy in the world, against a hopeless gay. You would've never felt the same way anyway. I then gave up on my emotions, hoping I could keep our friendship going as long as possible. Obviously...it ended faster than expected, but I had fun while it lasted."

Thomas began to get up from his spot, stretching his arms.

Afterwards, he just walked away. He said nothing else, did nothing else. He just walked away, leaving Newt alone in the cold. Thoughts of all kind swarmed into his head: _That's it? I thought he'd react more after this. Revealing your sexuality, and your biggest secret without a pause? How?_

While Newt hadn't moved from his spot, Thomas was already halfway to the parking lot; shivering a bit, but keeping a steady pace. A distant call caused him to turn around, but his vision was blinded by a dark figure. His back slammed into the bark of a nearby tree; his right hand and left shoulder pinned to the same trunk. Clearing his vison, he realized the figure was none other than Newt.

He couldn't react, which is why he couldn't stop the kiss placed on his lips. His eyes were wide while Newt's were closed; lasting a few seconds before the blonde slowly pulled away, running away into the darkness. Thomas stood in his tracks, bringing up a hand to his lips; trembling from the shock of it all. A small drop of water glistened in the moonlight, turning his attention to the parking lot only a few feet away.

Thomas kept peering back, but nothing stirred. His heart never calmed after what occurred, neither did his eyes; seeming strange to Minho who waited patiently. 

  
\- "Newt's not coming?"

\- "I guess not." Thomas said, strapping into the front seat.

Afterwards, Minho asked the game-changing question. "So...what happened?"

  
The car revved through the deserted, but bright streets. The headlights were spotlights to pedestrians, the window was a mirror to the moon. With a smile Thomas replied.

   "I'd say it's a long story...but..."


	6. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have time to think on their feelings, but one has yet to realize them.

The drive cruised, along smooth, slick asphalt; white and yellow strips of paint glowing in the headlights. Tires muffled, metal grinding, buildings illuminated in the twilight. Silhouettes peered through; dark shadows, yet visible under the stars looming overhead. Thomas stared into nothingness through the passenger window, reflecting every face of the moon. Minho, behind the wheel, glanced side to side, turns and brakes; accompanied by speech.  
  
Questions, statements, understandings. Not a minute passed without a storm of words bombarding Thomas' mind; still fuzzy after what happened. Newt had kissed him. His friend. His crush. Somehow, all he felt was confusion. _Ecstatic_ did not exist. Neither did _delight._ He was sure of Newt's reaction:   
  
    _"I never want to see you again!"  
  
    "You're a disgrace!"  
  
_Etc.  
  
However, neither of his predictions came to be. Despite what he thought, he thought he'd want that to happen again. But...he didn't. It seemed unnatural for that to have happened. You can't just profess your love to someone and expect them to love you back. The world doesn't work like that. But...it happened...did it? Did Newt always like him that way? He didn't get much time to think about it long, not with Minho the loudmouth.  
  
\- "Thomas, are you even listening to a word I'm saying?"  
  
The sudden reality change startled him to death. Even if he was just saved from it. "Huh? Y-yeah, I'm listening."  
  
\- "Good that. Man, I still can't believe Newt kissed you like that. I've known him for a while actually."  
  
\- "How so?"  
  
\- "He was on the track team, but he always came on a private schedule. I never knew why."  
  
\- "Maybe he wanted to have time alone to himself?"  
  
\- "Maybe. But besides that, we spent some time hanging out, becoming good friends. One day he just quit. The day he did, I was actually going to have you meet him. Ironic...eh?"  
  
\- "Heh, sure Minho."  
  
Minho smiled, focused on the road. Casualties were an absolute _no._ "Anyways, I can see where you're coming from. He comes from a rich background, depressing because he never had support from his parents. Usually alone, and it didn't help when he moved from away from England; having to start fresh. It doesn't seem like him, he's never done anything like that before."  
  
Thomas had nothing else to say afterwards. No witty remarks, no clever jokes, no bad puns. Nothing.  
  
\- "I think the real question is...how are you coping with this? This guy, who you love, might feel the same way about you."  
  
\- "I'm not sure. I don't know if he feels the same...or it's just pity."  
  
\- "Nah, man. Newt wouldn't do such a thing."  
  
\- "But it's possible, Minho! I was lucky enough to get support from you, the gang, maybe the entire school now, and my mother...but I don't know what Newt is anymore. I don't know _who_ he is now."  
  
\- "...believe whatever you want man. You should talk to him about it tomorrow, though. Our school was canceled for the week, you know? Principle Vince feels like it's enough time for everyone to recover from Gally's outburst. Especially you."  
  
\- "...sure."  
  
Minho and Thomas were silent the rest of the drive back. Nothing stirred but the torn, black pavement. The silence was absolute, shattered merely by the frostbitten wind; howling and bellowing. Thomas remained fixated on his mind, staring into definite nothingness. His vision fogged with tears, clearing, then rejuvenating. Despite every one of his feelings leading to a depressing thought, he had succumbed to them. Even so, Minho had a point. He should talk to Newt about it all.  
  
But...what would he say?  
  


* * *

 

**\--- Newt ---**

Newt lay on his back, staring at the tall ceiling of his mansion. Yes. His parents were _that_ rich. The entire lot was surrounded by a fancy, black iron fence; electrically wired for security purposes. The bushes of snow covered leaves bordered the fence as well until it reached the front and back gate; the front path guarded by a forest of deciduous and coniferous trees, and the back garden sheltered by a grotto and maze of hedges. 

The mansion was etched in chiseled quartz and granite, a tiled roof, and white stone pillars. His room was the only place in the house untouched by his parents- who hardly ever spent time with him. Since their usual need for business trips, their butler, and scheduled maid have been working nonstop. If anything, they're his actual parents; not strangers of an entrepreneur, and a real estate agent.

His mind raced, filled with thoughts. Reminders of his decision. The internal struggle he now faced. Someone he befriended, someone he kissed, may be someone he loves. _Can you base love off one kiss?_

Newt only had Thomas on his mind, wondering how he felt about the kerfuffle. But his mind wandered elsewhere when a knock sounded at his bedroom door. The muffled voice of a man was audible.

\- "Mr. Newton, are you alright?" asked the man.

\- "...yes."

\- "Dinner is ready when you want it."

\- "Thank you, Alonso. Can you thank Miriam too, please?"

\- "Yes," Alonso said as he stepped out of the teenager's room.

A heavy sigh expelled from his lips, purging incoming air away from his lungs. It all suddenly seemed comical.

Things were different no doubt. However, it's more confusing than it sounds. The only person in the world who _"loved"_ him was his other friend. He'd known him for at least three days, and already they've had their first kiss; even if it was one-sided. After his suicide attempt, having a lover was his last thought; although, he might just love him too.

Things seemed too easy after all the crap he faced tonight; hearing two love confessions, a revelation of a gay sexuality, and an unthinkable kiss. Almost as if a screenplay or a book was being written about his life. So far, the events that unfolded had all seemed tedious in the logical sense. 

In books, someone could have magical powers, become immortal, and profess undying love to someone; receiving the same reaction back. Nothing is ever that simple...but it was. Maybe

He had to keep in touch with Thomas, but how? _The nearby Starbucks? I can explain everything there tomorrow morning! Perfect!_ His plan was devised: meet with Thomas at the new coffee shop by the school, and get to common ground. It didn't seem much after thinking about it, there was more going on, just not explained thoroughly. Dinner was waiting downstairs in the dining room, probably cold after his philosophical breakdown. 

Nothing else bothered him the rest of the night, not even when he settled down to sleep. The dim moonlight shone through the peaking curtains, bringing the Sandman to work. His eyes dropped, his breath stilled, slumber had come.

The word _tomorrow_  ringed in his head throughout the evening. _Tomorrow._ That was the significant day, but he had no preparation for what he would say. _Tomorrow_ blocked out his train of thought in a thick fog, a white mist shrouding his mind; it was _tomorrow. Tomorrow....tomorrow._

_Tomorrow._


	7. The Coffee Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They agree to meet at a local coffee shop, but Newt is now second guessing himself.

Dawn rose from the horizon, snowy with barely any grass purging the blanket. Trees rattled with bird chirps, and burrows under the house echoed with hibernated snores. Light shattered the darkness of Thomas' bedroom as if it were glass. Groans of uncomfortable rest escaped his lips, followed by open eyes of discomfort. It wasn't the blinding light or the pain in his side, but the constant buzzing of his phone.  
  
Ever since the incident, people have called and asked regarding his health. Last night's event didn't aid in the process either. Comprehended feelings subsided into muddled emotions; his mind raced about the slightest things-even some he never thought about. The hospital bill was his biggest priority. Or it was until his phone buzzed again.  
  
At least 13 messages from Teresa, 10 from Minho, 9 from Brenda, 5 from Aris, and...one from Newt.  
  
The sudden change of messages perplexed him, for the majority of his texts asked if he was dead yet. Ignoring the others condolences, Newt's was the first to be read:  
  
\- Are you alright to get coffee? -  
  
A few second of hesitation left him the answer.  
  
\- Yeah, what time? -  
  
A simple _"yes"_ would've sufficed even so.  
  
\- Anytime you want. -  
  
The strangest part of the entire kerfuffle was that Newt wanted to meet up. Newt wasn't big on going out, or social events -for the time he knew him. He didn't even text him at all last night, so why now? Maybe he needed composure, if what even happened at the park was real. All he saw was a shadowy figure kiss him. It may have been Newt, or someone else- but who would stoop to such levels?  
  
His shoulders and wrist still ached from the event, and his back must've been imprinted from tree bark. His mother never let him out of her sight that night, but duty calls.  
  
Ever since his father passed, his mother has had to work two jobs on weekdays, and three jobs on the weekends just to pay for expenses. Thomas was always content with living on the streets, but he felt his mother deserved a more luxurious life. At one point, Thomas had gotten a job once he was 15; but after his mother found out, she forced him to quit since he came home worked to the bone.  
  
He couldn't ever imagine Newt had to face what he experienced, having rich parents and the exquisite life his mother needed. Then again, he hardly knew him.  
  
 _Might as well. I have nothing else to do._  
  
He shifted with discomfort, making his way to the small closet on the side of his room. A dark and light blue patterned button up shirt- pulling his sleeves to his elbows- and navy blue jeans.   
  
Nothing too fancy.  
  


* * *

 

**\--- Newt ---**

Newt was already in his outfit, standing by a mirror in his walk-in-closet. Out of the thousands of outfits, he picked a button down shirt with silver shoulder details and black jeans. It had taken him nearly half an hour to finally decide his apparel; bouncing back from dress shirts, or formal tuxedos. 

Afterwards, he remembered, it's not a Country Club meeting _or_ a Gala for that matter. A mere social event. Then again, he had never done the sort of things like hangouts. A typical day would be either eating out at a fancy restaurant or, watching alone from a table while his parents socialized at a reunion.

He had also stood in the same spot in an attempt to memorize a speech; as traditional wherever his parents dragged him to. He had to remember that it wasn't a Prince's Ball. It was a pressing matter as to what he would say. However, Thomas probably didn't prepare for anything quite like those events unlike he had to.

 

His parents shouldn't be back for a week, not that they'd hurry to get home. He was nearly invisible. Also meaning his parents had no conscience that a gun was fired at school. 

To be honest, he could've died right then and there- and by the way his parents normally act- and he'd only have a few minutes of grief before their work would step in the way.

_Let's just hope this all goes well._

After sprucing his hair, and grabbing his light coat, he finally stepped out the door. The icy dew appeared frozen, the grass a bushel of stalking creatures; inescapable. The sun was brighter than ever, but not warm enough to melt the snowflakes outlining the silhouettes of distant trees. Since he was often alone, everything looked like familiar faces in a yearbook.

The nearby park; with vibrant flowers and crabgrass, gentle animals in vales, with friendly children frolicking in the sandbox. The Natural History Museum, a time to reflect on the past and present, from geodes to political power. The beach by the dock, the breezy shore blowing to the center of the plaza.

The plaza found in the town square...also, where the newly opened coffee shop appeared. The cobblestone pavement led his feet to the glass window, bordered by brown and gold decor; showing his friend in full view.

Thomas, sitting alone at a table by the opposite window, a caffè latte emitting steam as it fogged the glass. His spoon spun around the circumference of the cup as he stirred with the expression of normality, but he knew well that he was just concealing boredom.

As he rest his hand on the handle, he slowly pried the door open.

_No turning back now._


	8. The Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon entering the coffee shop, the two both come face to face; this time with something(s) in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no excuse for being late to this...but I have my reasons. Long story short: my mother's a witch.

Upon entering the coffee shop, Newt was bombarded with fragrances of nutmeg, cinnamon, vanilla, and sugar - just to name a few. He placed his hands in his pockets and folded his feet inwards as a gesture of nervousness. He wasn’t even sure why, other than the idea of having to face his inner demons. Or . . . just one.

He looked over at the table where the brunet was sitting, to which Thomas’ expression still seemed patient. Patiently waiting for Newt.

It took roughly a minute before he moved from his spot, making his way over to the seat by the window.

Newt made himself comfortable afterwards, but Thomas didn’t even move. No flinch, no gasp, nothing. Newt supposed it was because he was invested in really great book. To get his attention, he tapped the book cover, with Thomas looking up; smiling brightly in response.

_ He sure seems happy,  _ Newt thought.

Newt smiled back, but it was more calm. He clasped his hands as he set them on the table, crossing his legs as well; not sure who would speak first. It’s as if they were thinking the same thing, because they sat in silence for a few moments; eyes glancing around the room to avoid making eye contact. When Thomas spoke, so did Newt simultaneously.

The two boys laughed in unison as well, but Thomas was able to speak first.

     “You made it. I was beginning to think you flaked out on me,” he joked.

     “Nah. I had a bit of difficulty picking out an outfit for today.”

     “Well, it certainly paid off. You look nice."

     “Nice? That’s the understatement of the day-do you even know how long I spent preparing this bloody thing!?” Newt exclaimed hysterically.

The two laughed once more. Thomas put his face closer to the his drink, the steam fogging up his glasses. When he looked up, it only fueled the laughter among them.

As Thomas cleaned his glasses, he asked,

     “So, why did you want to meet up again?”

     “I...just wanted to clarify a few things. Not that it would make much of a difference, I don’t think.”

     “Eh. You’d be surprised.”

     “I think not. You seem very jovial today. Did something happen? Anything I should be worried about?” He smiled in anticipation.

     “No. Maybe it’s because you don’t seem to hate my guts like I thought you would.”

     “Really? Why would I hate you?”

     “Because I’m gay? You tell me.”

     “That’s one of the reasons I asked you here, Tommy.”

Thomas raised one eyebrow in confusion.

     “Go on…”

     “I couldn’t care less if you were gay or not. You’re still my friend.”

     “Even if I may have confessed my crush on you?”

Newt went silent, to which Thomas knew he was thinking about something. Then, it hit him: the shadowy figure that kissed him after he was discharged from the hospital.

     "Yes, Tommy. Of course I’m still your friend.”

     “Good. Great actually! ‘Cause I have a question for you.”

     “Alright, I’m listening,” Newt replied leaning on the table.

     “The night I got discharged from the hospital. Was that you who kissed me?”

It was as if he struck a nerve, or triggered a traumatic memory, because Newt’s expression changed once more; this time to a look of guilt.

     "Was that you?” Thomas continued.

     “...yes...Alright? Don’t make a big deal about it though,” Newt said slouching back in his seat, crossing his arms.

     “You don’t seem happy about that. And either way I am going to make a big deal about this, whether you like it or not. I need to know if my ‘friend’ is using me or not!”

     “Shh! Not so loud.” Newt whispered sitting up.

Thomas reclined in his seat, crossing his arms just as Newt did. He didn’t appreciate that, but he knows from experience what it’s like to do what Newt did just then. He too was afraid of talking about him being gay, but Newt wasn’t gay...right?

     “Look, I’m sorry. I-I just...I don’t know, anymore.” Newt apologized.

     “It’s fine, but I want to know if I’m really your friend. I don’t want to be a tool, or a way to get back at an ex, or anything like that. I need a genuine answer.”

     “You’re my friend, Tommy. And I’m sorry if I’ve put you in a position where you feel used. I’m just in a rough place right now.”

     “How so?”

     “Well for one, I’m now having to try and find myself. Figure out who I am now that all…’this’...has happened.”

     “And what exactly is ‘this’?” Thomas gestured.

     “You know what. I haven’t had to deal with someone liking me the way you do, much less with a guy having those feelings.”

     “Ok. Just know, right now I’m getting the impression that my crush on you has made you uncomfortable.”

     “It’s not that, just..” Newt began.

     “You’re asking questions about yourself you’ve never had to ask before? And you don’t have answers to any of them?”

     “Yeah.”

     “I know from experience. I dated my fair share of girls, but my heart was never really in it. If that makes sense.”

     “Yeah. It does.”

     “It wasn’t until my first crush on a guy, that I realized that I was gay.”

     “Maybe, I’m in a similar situation?”

Thomas seemed to feel hopeful, for once. ‘In a similar situation’? What does he mean by that?

     "Judging by your face right now, you’re probably asking yourself if I’m... _ gay _ ,” Newt said, whispering the last word.

     “Are you?” Thomas whispered back.

     “Well, that’s just it. I don’t know. Wish I did, but I’m not experienced enough in this to know,” Newt sighed in reply.

     “I mean, I’m no expert, but I’d be happy to help out-should you want it that is.”

     “I’d like that, but for now, I think I need to do this myself.”

     “I hope we can revert back to normality before all ‘this’ awkwardness happened.”

They both laughed, as a gesture of ‘I hope so too’. But something seemed off in Newt, and Thomas could sense it. Something other than the matter of ‘finding yourself’.

     “Newt-” Thomas began before he was cut off.

In a sudden burst, Newt cupped his face and kissed him. It didn’t last long, almost 3 seconds, but it was enough to make Thomas feel lighter than air. When they pulled away, Newt ran out the doors as fast as he could.  _ Just like last night. _

Thomas stood there in the shop, wide-eyed once more, and he didn’t know what to do in this situation. The only thing he knew was that he didn’t want to be the center of everyone’s attention, so he left as well.

The outside was slightly chilly-a change from the warm indoors, but his focus was fixated on the blond who left Starbucks in a hurry. The blond who kissed him, again.

But it’d be hard to find one person in a crowd of moving people, so he decided to call it a day, and head home. He’d text Newt later, when Newt would probably be able to respond without getting flustered.

As far as where Newt was, he didn’t know. Neither did Newt. All he said to himself was to  _ keep running. Run as fast as you can. _ If it wasn’t for his limp, he’d get a lot farther. Since he didn’t, he was able to catch his breath.

He found a spot neary to sit down on, and he looked at his injured ankle-the one that he limps on. The bruise from his first suicide attempt: when he tried to jump off a bridge, before his sister, Sonya, pulled him back. The sudden motion bruised his ankle, so now his limp exists.

Looking down at it, he was reminded of his failure to kill himself. It he failed at something  _ anyone _ could do, then how was he supposed to ‘figure himself out’?

How would he tell Thomas that he feels the same way, when he runs away every time?


End file.
